


Chapter 4: Green Eyes, Big Stupid Grin

by dc_comic_girl



Series: The Story of Mickey Milkovich [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Debbie Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich Friendship, Gallavich, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Kash and Grab (Shameless US), M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, POV Mickey, POV Mickey Milkovich, Top Ian Gallagher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 03:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18541741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dc_comic_girl/pseuds/dc_comic_girl
Summary: Mickey steals Kash's gun (after it was fuckin' pulled on him), and wakes up to his sister's boyfriend trying to get it back.





	Chapter 4: Green Eyes, Big Stupid Grin

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so I combined two episodes here, because there wasn't nearly enough Mickey in either. I hope you like it. Just a heads up, there is a bit of smut (not a lot, but just a heads up).
> 
> Characters aren't mine and any dialoge from the show is also not mine.
> 
> Same WARNING as previous chapter: I, the writer, do not agree with or condone the derogitory language used against minorities.

Krystal McKinnon had to be the most annoying fuckin’ person alive. She would not stop screaming and yelling and carrying the fuck on. It was irritating as all hell and Mickey wished she would just shut the fuck up. He felt his dick getting limp just listening to her. He tried to keep going, but the more he looked at her naked body, the less aroused he became and the more he panicked. All he needed was it getting around that Mickey Milkovich couldn’t get it up.

“You alright?” she asked, out of breath.

“Fine,” he grunted, trying to move faster, hoping the friction would help.

He tried to picture the posters his brothers hung on their walls, with naked girls draped across cars, but it wasn’t working; the images just made him panic more.

 _Come on_ , he thought. _Be a man!_

There was one poster that Joey had of this girl with small tits and short, spikey, red hair. He felt his dick harden slightly, thinking of the picture, reigniting his hope. _Alright, we can work with this._

He flipped Krystal around so he wouldn’t have to look at her stupid face. He shut his eyes tight, trying to focus – just get it over with.

Mustang on the side of the highway.

Red hair, sweaty against her neck.

Red apron, stocking shelves.

_Wait, no._

Freckles across her nose.

Pale skin against black paint.

Green eyes, big stupid grin.

_The fuck, Milkovich?!_

Mickey tried hard to focus on the girl from the picture, but his mind kept mutating her into Lip’s dumbass little brother, Mandy’s sickeningly sweet boyfriend.

 _Fuckin’ pull it together and focus_ , Mickey thought, pumping faster, but he couldn’t help it. Morbid curiosity took over and let the fantasy take place. The freckly ginger dork on his knees. Mickey lacing his fingers through Ian’s hair, holding his head steady…

Mickey released with a grunt and collapsed on the couch next to Krystal, exhausted.

After a couple minutes of catching her own breath, Krystal sat up. She pulled her sweaty, brown hair into a ponytail at the back of her head.

“So, you want to go get a burger or something?” she asked, batting her eyelashes in what Mickey could only assume was an attempt at seduction.

“No.”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t mean anything. People had weird as fuck thoughts all the time during sex. Iggy had told him about people who got off on looking at pictures of people’s feet or some shit. This was no weirder than that. This was just because that Gallagher kid had been at his house every goddamn night this week. It’s like when you see some random shit and then dream about it that night.

Every night Mickey would come home to find Ian and Mandy curled up on the couch, doing homework or watching TV or some shit. You see something enough times, you’re gonna fuckin’ think about it. It didn’t mean anything, and it certainly wasn’t gay because Mickey wasn’t some fuckin’ fag.

 _Except, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar_ , Mickey thought, in spite of himself. _Sometimes a Gallagher is just a Gallagher_.

He stopped across the street from the Kash and Grab. Jesus, what a fuckin’ day. He chewed on the cuticle on his ring finger and took a drag from his cigarette. He needed to get it the fuck together. His father was getting out of prison tomorrow and he couldn’t be thinking this gay shit all the time.

He heard the store door open and saw Kash’s bitch of a wife bustle out of the store. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started across the street. Fucking may not have given him the release he wanted, but he was pretty sure that scaring the shit out of Towelhead would. If he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut, Mickey would at least get some food to have in the kitchen for his father’s homecoming. If he was dumb enough to try and _stop_ Mickey…well, pounding the shit out of the pussy-bitch might be just what the doctor ordered to calm Mickey the fuck down.

Mickey walked into the store and looked straight at Kash. He was fumbling around with some packets of gum and seemed to pause when he saw Mickey but said nothing.

Mickey went straight to the back of the store and grabbed a Gatorade, a couple cans of Sour Cream and Onion Pringles, and a box of RingDings. He could feel the man’s eyes following him around the store, but still, Kash said nothing.  

Mickey walked back up to the front, his arms loaded with food. He grabbed the box on the counter and dumped out the remaining gum. He carefully packed all the groceries in the box, purposely taking his time and giving Kash every opportunity to try and stop him. He didn’t. _Coward_.

Mickey grabbed a couple KitKat bars sitting on the counter and threw them in the box. He surveyed his box of snacks, gave a satisfied nod, and turned to go.

He paused, holding the box under his arm, deciding to test just how far Towelhead would be pushed.  

“Oh, heads up, man: you’re out of Barbecue Pringles,” he offered, helpfully, pointing towards where the chips were stored. The man continued his silence, so Mickey turned to go.

The entire interaction hadn’t been quite as satisfying as Mickey had hoped. He was halfway across the street before he decided to turn around and maybe pound the paki anyway.

He walked back into the store, but Kash had been joined at the register by Ian fuckin’ Gallagher. _Fuck_.

While Kash was looking down, still doing his best to look passive, Ian was glaring straight at Mickey. Mickey really couldn’t deal with this shit right now – the whole fucking purpose of this endeavor was to distract himself from Gallagher. He quickly aborted his mission and went straight for the fridge in the back. He grabbed the first chip dip he could find and turned back around to leave.

“I forgot the dip,” he explained, holding up the container and waving it on his way out. Ian had stopped glaring at Mickey and was looking at Kash instead.

Mickey had only just made it to the curb before he heard the door open behind him.

“Hey, Mickey!” he heard Ian call. Jesus, he couldn’t catch a fucking break. He turned around. Ian didn’t look like he was trying to get into any kind of physical altercation, but he also didn’t look afraid.

“Why don’t you steal from a neighbourhood you don’t live in? Have some civic pride, huh?” Ian asked, staring Mickey down with those big green eyes.

_Green eyes, big stupid grin. On his knees._

Mickey nodded and shrugged. _Fine. What-the-fuck-ever_. He had wanted to avoid Gallagher, but this worked too. He pulled the dip out of the box and whipped it at the ginger.

“Hey! Hey!” Ian yelled, ducking out of the way. The dip splattered all over the store front and Ian wasn’t glaring anymore. He looked afraid. _Good_.

Mickey turned around, sucking dip off his finger.

“You know where I live if you have a problem.”

 

* * *

 

“The fuck you want?” Mickey said into the phone sleepily. The ringing had woken him from a dead sleep. It was only 10:30 a.m., and the only person who had his number and would be awake at this time was Mandy.

Sure enough, Mandy’s voice came from the other side.

“You guys haveta come to 43rd and Halsted. A big delivery truck broke down, and we’re breaking into it,” Mandy explained. He could hear in her voice how excited she was.

“The fuck’s ‘we’?” Mickey asked, getting up and pulling on a jacket.

“Lip and Ian. They called the other Gallaghers, too.”

 Mickey rolled his eyes, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled on some boots.

“But look, you better get down here fast, ‘cause once it’s open, we won’t be able to keep it quiet,” Mandy said rushed, before hanging up.

Mickey wasn’t able to rouse Jaime or Colin, and he couldn’t find Iggy or Joey, so he headed out alone. Mandy had been right about keeping it quiet – it seemed like most of the neighbourhood was gathered around the truck. Those Gallaghers never did seem to know when to keep their fuckin’ mouths shut.

He jogged up to the truck and saw the bartender who lived down the street from the Gallaghers standing at the lock with a crowbar.

Ian was standing off to the side of the truck with an arm around Mandy’s shoulders. His eyes darted over to Mickey as he strolled up to the back of the truck, and the boy looked less than thrilled that Mickey was there.

People from all over town had come out and they all fought to hop in the back as soon as the truck was open. The Gallaghers had brought a wheelbarrow and were piling it high with meat. Mandy jumped in the truck and started handing chuck down to Mickey. He regretted not bringing some way to carry it but loaded his arms as much as he could.

“Here. You can borrow this,” Mickey heard behind him. He turned to see a young girl with bright red hair. She waved a hand over a stroller. Mickey gawked at her a minute, not knowing how to respond. He recognized her as Lip’s younger sister – Doris or something.

“To push the meat in,” she explained to him like he was slow. Yep, definitely Lip’s sister.

Mickey meant to tell her to fuck off with her stroller, but, before he could, Lip had picked her up and put her in the back of the truck again. Mickey shrugged and piled the meat from his arms into the chair of the stroller.

 

* * *

  

Mickey was feeling pretty good about the events of the morning. Yeah, he had to wake up early, but, with any luck, the meat he and Mandy had taken would last them a month. With his father coming home tonight, he was hopeful this would make him proud.

His brothers were still asleep when he got home. Mickey knew they had to leave soon to pick up Terry, but he figured it wouldn’t matter too much if they were a little late. Terry was going to be in a bad mood either way, until he got a drink in him.

Mickey’s stomach gave an angry grumble. With all the excitement this morning, he had completely forgotten to eat. He transferred the meat from the little Gallagher’s stroller into the fridge and put his coat back on. He probably had time to go and grab some soup before they had to head out. Plus, with any luck, Gallagher would still be at the truck and wouldn’t be working yet. Mickey had been avoiding the Kash and Grab since their confrontation yesterday.

Luck seemed to be on his side, because as Mickey entered the store, a quick scan indicated that Towelhead was the only other person present. It occurred to Mickey that this would have been the perfect time to dish out the owed beating from last night, but he really didn’t have the time.

He walked to the back of the store and grabbed a Styrofoam cup and started filling it with tomato soup. He grabbed a plastic spoon and slurped some as he walked towards the exit.

“Two fifty,” he heard Kash whisper behind him.

Mickey turned around, with raised eyebrows.

“What was that?” he asked, taking an intimidating step back towards the counter.

The man cleared his throat. “The soup is two fifty,” Kash repeated, his voice slightly stronger this time.

“’zat a fact?” Mickey asked with a grin. He turned back around towards the door but heard a click behind him. He turned back around to see Towelhead pointing a gun at him, hand shaking. Mickey hardened his face and walked back towards the counter. Who exactly did this fucker think he was?

“Careful, man. Don’t hurt yourself,” Mickey said calmly. He walked until the gun was flush against his chest. Kash shook harder.

Mickey waited in silence, daring the man to pull the trigger – knowing he wouldn’t. Finally, he sighed. He hit Kash hard across the elbow and heard the man whimper. Mickey grabbed the gun and put the safety back on. He turned the gun around and used the handle to hit Kash in the right eye. Hard.

The man fell to the ground with another whimper and Mickey scoffed. Turns out he had been right yesterday: that did make him feel a lot better.

 

* * *

 

Picking up Terry had been about as much fun as Mickey had expected. Terry was in a foul fuckin’ mood and Mickey only imagined any liquor ingested tonight would aggravate it. Mandy had hung up a banner for Terry’s homecoming that morning and invited all their cousins and uncles over for a big blowout. Upon arriving home, Mickey realized, with some distress, that a couple of his cousins had already cooked up half the meat he and Mandy had stolen that morning.

As the drunken and high adults milled around the front yard, Mickey sat on the porch steps smoking a cigarette and nursing a beer. He wasn’t interested in getting too plastered tonight. You had to be on high alert with Terry around because you never knew when you’d have to block or duck. He worried that Terry’s most recent incarceration had left Mickey a little soft, and he wanted to be sober so he could remain vigilant.

Mandy sat down on the steps next to him and pulled his cigarette out of his hands, taking a drag.

“Nice party,” Mickey said after a couple minutes of silence, taking his smoke back from her.

“Yeah. Kinda thought Mom would come home for it, though,” Mandy replied with a shrug. She avoided eye contact, and Mickey thought she was probably ashamed to admit to missing Lydia. Their mother hadn’t come home since she left a couple months ago to “pick up Iggy from juvie”. Iggy had come home by bus and told them she had never showed. Mickey knew that it bothered Mandy that Lydia was MIA, but truthfully, Mickey figured they were better off without her spending all their money on smack.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Mickey asked, trying to change the topic before Mandy started fuckin’ blubbering or some shit. “He too good for a welcome home party?”

“He’s working tonight,” Mandy shrugged, reaching for Mickey’s cigarette again. He batted her hand away. “Came ‘round looking for you today, though.”

Mickey looked over at her in surprise.

“The fuck for?”

“Said you hit his boss,” Mandy answered, taking a sip of Mickey’s (mostly full) beer. Mickey shoved her shoulder.

“Could you go get your own goddamn beer?”

Mandy rolled her eyes and flipped him off. They sat in silence for another couple of minutes.

“He said you took Kash’s gun,” Mandy finally said.

“Yeah? What of it?” Mickey asked, watching one of his cousins pass out on the front lawn.

Mandy shrugged. “I don’t know. Seemed pretty pissed about it.” She grinned and hit her shoulder against his gently. “Watch your back.”

Mickey took a drag from his cigarette and watched Terry finish off his eighth beer and throw the can on the ground.

“Yeah. I’m shaking in my fuckin’ boots.”

 

* * *

 

 

Despite his sobriety, it had been pretty late before Mickey finally got to sleep. He wanted to make sure Terry was asleep first, more for Mandy’s sake than his own. Mandy was pretty tough, for a chick, but Mickey knew she was no match for Terry. Fuck, he was pretty sure _he_ wasn’t a match for Terry, but he wasn’t about to sit back and let his baby sister get hurt.

By about five o’clock Terry had passed out on the couch, and Mickey felt it was safe to go to bed. Seeing as he had been awake since Mandy called that morning about the meat truck, it didn’t take him long at all to pass out.

It felt like he had been asleep for barely a minute before he felt something hard poking him in the back.

“The fuck?” he asked, groggily.

“I want the gun back, Mickey.”

He rolled over to see his sister’s boyfriend standing over him with determination in his eyes and a tire iron in hand

 “Gallagher?” he asked. He was barely awake, and the entire scene was kind of confusing him. He wondered for a second if he was dreaming.

_Green eyes, big stupid grin._

“The gun,” Ian repeated, pointing the tire iron squarely at Mickey’s face. Mickey’s memory started to jog. Towelhead’s gun. The gun he took. Got it.

“Alright,” Mickey said, holding up a hand in defeat. He rubbed his eye and leaned over his bed to his bedside table.

In a fluid motion, Mickey spun around, pushing hard onto Ian’s chest. He saw Ian’s tenacity quickly shift to surprise, and he grabbed both the boy’s shoulders. Ian seemed to lose his step and fall backwards slightly. Mickey practically picked him up and threw him back into the wall beside his bed. He grabbed Ian’s right wrist and pulled it up to slam against the wall, causing him to drop the tire iron.  

Mickey grabbed a fist full of Ian’s shirt and held him down on the bed. Ian struggled against him and managed to flip himself over, trying to crawl away, but Mickey swung his right leg over the boy’s back and straddled him from behind.

Mickey wrapped his forearms around Ian’s neck, squeezing hard, his cheek pressing against the back of the boy’s ginger head.

Ian somehow managed to stand up, Mickey still wrapped around his throat from behind, and spun around, throwing Mickey off and onto the couch on the other side of the room.

Instead of running though, Ian seemed to try to catch his breath, and squared up, waiting for Mickey to get up. Obliging, Mickey jumped back off the couch and grabbed the boy by the forearms, trying to push him back down onto the bed.

Ian got his arms loose and pushed Mickey hard in the chest, causing him to fall back into his dresser. Ian turned around, making for the bed, and Mickey realized he was going for the tire iron. Mickey quickly jumped back onto the bed, and onto Ian’s back. The younger boy had just grabbed the tire iron, and rolled over, so Mickey was straddling his chest rather than his back. Ian tried to swing the weapon upwards but didn’t have the right angle. Mickey easily grabbed the boy’s wrist and held it still, prying the iron from his grip.

Mickey swung his arm back, holding the iron. Ian was on his back, under him, pressed into the bed, his head turned to the side with a wince, clearly anticipating the blow.

Mickey clenched his teeth, hissing his breath in and out, his whole body buzzing with adrenaline. He looked down between his legs, and saw the freckle faced boy, peak an eye up at him.

The two sat in the strange tableau for a couple seconds, each heaving and catching his breath.

  _On his knees. Holding his head steady._

Mickey felt his still racing heart start pumping blood to his dick. _Fuck. Not now. Not with Terry right outside on the goddamn couch._

Mickey felt like those seconds seemed to be stretching on forever. He tried to lower his arm and crack the boy’s skull, but his body didn’t seem to be cooperating. _What else is fuckin’ new?_

Ian wasn’t hiding his face at all anymore. He was looking straight up at Mickey with his big green eyes. They weren’t scared anymore. They were curious. And…and something else…

Mickey lowered his arm and dropped the tire iron. Ian’s eyes followed his movement and then looked back up into Mickey’s. Something unspoken passed between the two boys, and before Mickey had any time at all to dissect it, he was pulling his wife beater off and over his head.

He fell back off the boy’s chest as Ian sat up, pulling off his own sweater and shirt and fuckin’ other shirt. Jesus Christ, how many fuckin’ layers did this kid have? Mickey lost his patience and pulled off Ian’s T-shirt, before pulling down his own sweatpants.

Mickey didn’t really know what was happening to him. He didn’t really feel like he was in control of his own body. He felt more like he was watching the entire scene from above. He wondered briefly if this was what an out of body experience was but was quickly shaken from the thought by Ian flipping him around.

It occurred to him, distantly, that this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. At the very least, he was supposed to be in charge here. He was supposed to be the one pushing _Ian_ around, but as Ian pressed a hand firmly onto his back, he couldn’t seem to find the energy to push him off.

It wasn’t like anything Mickey had ever felt before. Ian seemed to know what he was doing. He directed Mickey’s body where he needed it to go without any words at all. Everything felt completely effortless. Mickey didn’t need to force himself to fantasize about something to keep his cock hard. He wasn’t counting down the minutes until it was over or wishing he was somewhere else. He didn’t feel anxiety clutching his chest wondering if he was doing it right or wrong or-

A door slammed shut outside the room.

He felt Ian break rhythm and become very still, still inside him.

“You makin’ all that noise? I’m tryna sleep,” Mickey heard his father’s voice, muffled through the door.

“Shit,” he heard Ian whisper, hoarsely, pulling out.

“You want your stupid eggs or not, dad? You stop being such a prick I’ll even make you sausage,” Mandy yelled, exasperated.

“Get the fuck off me,” Mickey whispered hurriedly. He pulled the blankets over him on the bed, and yanked Ian’s arm. The boy, paler than usual with fear, fell down on the bed next to Mickey. Mickey covered him with the blankets, too.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, alright,” Terry grumbled, and Mickey saw the knob of his door turn.

Terry walked in, scratching his ass and headed straight for the bathroom, coughing and choking up phlegm. Mickey held his breath and could feel Ian doing the same beside him. Neither of them moved a muscle, but exchanged a glance, as they heard Terry pissing in the bathroom.

“Mandy’s making eggs,” Terry said, strolling out of the bathroom and barely looking over at the bed.

He suddenly froze and turned back to look at his youngest son. Mickey fixed his eyes on the ceiling, expecting the worst.

“Put some clothes on. You two look like a couple of fags,” Terry said, disgusted and walked out the door.

Ian finally exhaled, dropping his head down onto the pillow. Mickey realized he still was holding his breath, and stole a glance over at Ian, not believing their luck.

A pang of appreciation hit Mickey in the stomach, looking at the boy lying next to him. He hadn’t had to say anything, and Ian knew to keep his mouth shut (a skill he thought none of the Gallaghers had ever learned).

After the tension in the room had eased and their hearts had both stopped racing, Mickey got up. He quickly pulled on his clothes, lest his father come back in. Ian followed suit but was moving with a little less haste. He slowly pulled on his jeans, facing away from Mickey.

Mickey wanted to properly express his appreciation for not aggravating Terry and wanted to ask the boy to continue his silence but wasn’t exactly sure how to phrase either sentiment. He walked over to his dresser and pulled out the second drawer from the bottom. Hidden under some tank tops and socks was the gun he had stolen from the Kash and Grab.

Mickey tossed it onto the bed next to Ian, hoping to convey the importance of the gesture and its meaning without saying any words.

Ian turned around to look at him. Mickey met his eyes and rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip, willing Ian to understand how important it was that neither of them speak of this interaction ever fuckin’ again.

Their silent connection, however, seemed to be broken. Instead of just taking the gun and fucking leaving, Ian walked towards him, and Mickey saw the boy start to close his eyes and part his lips.

“Kiss me and I’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue out,” Mickey warned, turning and walking out of the room.

He sat down at the table where Mandy had set out breakfast. He casually surveyed his father, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Mickey barely contained a relieved grin, grabbing his own plate.

Mandy’s eyes suddenly widened, and she ran from the kitchen towards his room. Mickey heard her hiss Ian’s name and then whisper frantically at him for a few seconds before he heard the door open and close. He turned around to see Mandy leaning against the wall, staring all dreamily at the door Ian had just walked out.

He wondered, absently, if Mandy knew her boyfriend was a fag.  

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this! It was a lot of fun to write. I'm glad Mickey finally caught a break! Please feel free to comment, because I read them all! Hope to get the next chapter out soon!


End file.
